


under a different set of stars

by Acacius



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Roleswap, gratuitous twilight and vampire chronicle references abound, human nandor, sometimes u become a familiar to live with ur crush & that's valid, this isn't a coffee shop AU but it certainly starts out like one lol, told in vignettes so good luck figuring out the timeline, vampire guillermo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acacius/pseuds/Acacius
Summary: AU | Nandor, a human with a not-so-secret penchant for the macabre meets Guillermo de la Cruz, an ex Panera Bread employee now recently turned vampire. The roles may be shuffled, but the end result is the same.
Relationships: Guillermo de la Cruz/Nandor the Relentless
Comments: 31
Kudos: 62





	under a different set of stars

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is such a mess but i hope y'all enjoy lol

_“I think we've loved a thousand lives  
I try to find you every time  
Searching for those same wide eyes  
That locked me in, in my first life  
Do you remember my old names?  
Recognize my other face?  
 **We're both hanging in picture frames  
Somewhere in this place  
But my stare at you stayed the same.”**_

_._

_._

There were a lot of things vampires didn’t warn you about when it came to being an actual blood-sucking creature of the night, Guillermo thought sourly, drifting into the Starbucks with a weary sigh.

Jenna, the rather peppy LARPer who Guillermo had almost eaten a week into his turning, ushered him in with a wide grin. He had realized rather quickly that she made for better bait than a meal as he slowly integrated himself into her web of virgin friends. And he did actually enjoy her company, surprisingly enough. She reminded him of what he was like before he was turned, just another nerdy part-time student working a soul-sucking customer service job.

“Guillermo! Did you find your kitty?” she asks, brows knitted in concern.

It almost makes Guillermo feel a bit guilty—the lie about his _cat_. Sam was his cat, sure, but he was also a familiar. A familiar that was quite good at luring delicious snacks back to the house. A few weeks ago he had put up a Lost Animal notice on the corkboard above the really comfortable leather couches in the sitting area. It had been a good excuse to chat up a few of the regulars at the coffee shop and it gave him an excuse to loiter somewhere comfortable while Sam did his _I’m just a little lost kitty stuck out in the snow_ shtick that had nabbed Guillermo three people so far—one of which was a virgin, to his luck.

“Oh, you know,” Guillermo says, tipping his head in what he hoped was a despondent manner. “Got a lot of tips and close calls, but nope. Sam’s still missing.”

It almost seems like Jenna might cry as she makes despondent sniffling noises. “I’m so sorry, Guillermo. It’s not much, but I could make you a drink on the house? If you want? You look like a hot chocolate kind of guy. Am I right?”

Guillermo tries not to look too displeased. He actually did love hot chocolate when he was human. And most drinks still smelled delicious to him, even if he knew he couldn’t drink them. At the very least, he could warm his hands up while cradling the drink, kind of like what vampires did in Anne Rice novels.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, unable to hide his grin as Jenna sweeps over to prepare the hot chocolate.

“Whipped cream?” she asks.

“No thanks.”

As he waits by the counter, the doorbell behind him chimes. Normally, he wouldn’t bother to even turn around, but with the cold gust of winter air comes an absolutely _mouth-watering_ scent.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Guillermo utters aloud, watching as what can only be described as one of the most handsome men Guillermo has ever seen stroll casually into the Starbucks… holding his familiar, Sam.

“Hey, I found this little kitty cat outside!” the man calls out to the relatively empty coffee shop. There is only Guillermo, Jenna, and an elderly couple sat in the corner that look rather displeased that someone has brought an animal into a Starbucks.

When he meets Guillermo’s gaze, he flashes a bright grin with his blunt human teeth. Somehow, the sight of it stirs a brief feeling of dizziness, but he shakes his head a moment later. He was probably just running low on sugar? Or whatever nutrients vampires needed from human blood that they couldn’t get elsewhere.

Sam meows pitifully at Guillermo.

“Oh my God, Guillermo! That’s your cat!” Jenna squeals, having turned towards the counter to give Guillermo his hot chocolate.

Guillermo does his best to not react to the G-word even if it feels a bit like his ears may be bleeding, taking the proffered cup of hot chocolate with a grateful smile. When he turns his gaze back to the human, he feels something in his undead heart melt at the sight.

The tall, imposing man held Sam as gently as if he were made of glass, reaching out a finger to scratch underneath the cat’s chin as he cooed at him.

“There, there, Mr. Kitty, I am sure we will find your owner in no time at all,” he says soothingly, his accent naturally softening the cadence of his voice as he stares at the corkboard where the missing pet flier had been put up. 

Before Guillermo can stop himself, he’s approaching—as if he is the one hypnotized, the human enthralled by a beguiling vampire.

A pair of warm, dark eyes greet him, lips pulled into a lopsided but charming smile. The human awkwardly holds out Sam, cocking his head to the side. “This is your kitty, I presume?”

Guillermo nods, reaching forward to accept the cat. Sure enough, Sam clings to his shoulder immediately, purring contentedly.

The other man visibly relaxes. “Good. From Mr. Kitty’s reaction, I can tell that you are in fact his owner.”

“Yep,” Guillermo says. “Sam is a real Houdini—I can’t tell you the amount of times he’s escaped.”

The man frowns. “You should really get your doors and windows reinforced. Sam could have frozen to death out there. You are lucky he had wandered to this Starbucks around the same time that you were here.”

“I’ll get them reinforced as soon as I can,” Guillermo assures. As Sam clings to his shoulder, a wild, reckless kind of thought overtakes him. He offers the cup of hot chocolate to the human, voice lowering to a whisper. “Do you like hot chocolate? I just got this made and, well, I’d like to thank you, somehow.”

The human hesitates. He stares rather pointedly at Guillermo, making no attempt to hide his wandering gaze. Guillermo feels like an insect pinned to the wall—or perhaps a wiggling amoeba underneath a microscope. Though vampires didn’t need to breathe, human habits were hard to break, and Guillermo felt himself stilling, lungs no longer inflating or deflating as he stood, waiting in anticipation for the result of the man’s analysis.

Eventually, the human gives a soft smile, apparently pleased with whatever conclusion he came to about Guillermo. He takes the hot cup, fingers brushing against Guillermo’s own warmed hand. “I appreciate it. I’m Nandor, by the way.”

“I’m Guillermo.”

A twinkle of mischief flickers in Nandor’s eyes as they walk to the square table situated beside the window. He sits down and Sam immediately hops out of Guillermo’s lap, trailing over the table to rub against Nandor’s hand. He chuckles. “I know. It’s on Sam’s collar.”

From there, they drift into an easy volley of conversation. Guillermo learns a lot about the man. How he had studied history in college, did art in his spare time (which apparently involved a lot of glitter), had a sweet tooth, liked basketball, knew how to ride a horse, enjoyed fencing, and was also a descendant of a long line of southern Iranian warriors. Before he realizes it, it’s long past closing time—Jenna had been kind enough to let them talk for a bit longer as she went through the motions of closing for the night.

“Do you… do you think I could see you again?” Nandor asks hesitantly as he gets ready to leave, voice soft and unsure. “I want to make sure you are taking good care of Sam. He is a very good kitty.”

Guillermo knows it’s a bad idea. There’s no obvious indication that Nandor has any interest in the world of the supernatural. And, if anything, Guillermo is sure that his housemates would probably try and eat him if he came to the house. But he feels drawn to the soft-spoken human despite it all—how easily they interacted, how it felt as if they’d known each other for years rather than hours.

 _Was this how Nadja felt when she met Laszlo,_ Guillermo thinks, worrying his bottom lip with the tip of his left fang. Eventually, he nods, fishing his phone and stylus out of his pocket.

They exchange numbers and Nandor leaves with a wave, disappearing into the night as Guillermo watches, feeling as if his silent heart is lurching in his chest. Love-struck, he decides. He felt love-struck—enamored by a human.

It didn’t bother him as much as he thought it would.

******

Three months into what amounted to a surprisingly fast friendship, Nandor finally stumbles upon Guillermo’s secret.

Nandor gawks at the mirror, breaking off into Farsi as he watches the candelabra in Guillermo’s hand float in the air. Leave it to recently turned Guillermo to forget about the huge ass antique mirror in the hallway. That was the weird thing about being a vampire; you could still be seen in video cameras and photographs, but any mirror backed with silver and suddenly you’re invisible.

“You’re a vampire!” Nandor says, taking a step away from Guillermo. His face is twisted with confusion and then, heartbreakingly, hurt. “Did you only pretend to be my friend because you were planning to eat me?”

Panic flickers in Guillermo’s eyes. “No, I don’t want to eat you!“

“Then why didn’t you tell me you were a vampire? That’s kind of a big secret, you know! I’d tell you if I was a vampire!”

“Because I thought we’d get into an argument just like this over it!” _And I didn’t want to scare you_ , Guillermo thinks to himself, biting his tongue.

“So you would have just kept it from me until what? I was about to die or something?”

Guillermo rubs at his temples, a headache somehow slithering at the base of his skull. You would think vampirism would at least cure him of stress-induced migraines. “Nandor, you haven’t once made any indication that you even _like_ supernatural things. You’re a _history_ major for Hell’s sake. I tried talking to you about the _Vampire Chronicles_ and you nearly fell asleep on the sofa!”

Nandor held up a finger. “One, _the Vampire Chronicles_ is too serious for my tastes and there are too many books in the series. At some point, Mrs. Anne Rice made it a cash cow and I do not like cash cows. Two, _Twilight_ is far superior in every way. No, I will not elaborate. And three,” Nandor’s gaze softens. “You never asked me what my thesis was on, did you?”

“Am I going to regret asking you what your thesis was on—“

“ _A Historical Approach to Vampirism: Blood, Cannibalism, and Death, the Dark Triad of Humanity and the Externalization of Fear Through Literature.”_

“…You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

******

“Your teeth are so sharp,” Nandor says with obvious awe, stepping closer. “It’s a wonder I never noticed them before.”

Guillermo no longer needed to hide his smile nor his eating habits anymore, so he merely quirked a brow as Nandor settled next to him on the sofa. He takes a final sip from the goblet before placing it on the bronze tray.

“I tried to only give tight-lipped smiles,” Guillermo admits. “But they feel so weird. Like I’m pretending to be some middle-aged white dad at a barbecue.”

“Do you think…” Nandor trails, gaze darting rapidly away from the vampire’s teeth, a slight blush blooming over his cheeks.

Guillermo almost bites clean through his tongue thinking about just what the human was about to suggest. He wasn’t sure he would be able to control himself if Nandor asked if he could _bite_ him. Surely Nandor wasn’t that naïve, knowing what he did now about vampires’ appetites and his own admittance to being a virgin.

“Do you think I could touch them? Your fangs? I’m… I’m just curious. Sorry if that’s a rude question.”

Guillermo knows he should say no. It’s dangerous and stupid and he doesn’t want Nandor to think all vampires were as accommodating as him. Especially not after he caught Nandor trying to ask Laszlo a question about… certain aspects of vampire physiology to which Laszlo point-blank propositioned the human for a night of carnal pleasure. That was the thing about Nandor—he wasn’t afraid to ask any sort of question regarding vampires; he was likely why the adage _curiosity killed the cat_ even existed in the first place. His curiosity literally held zero bounds, to the degree that Guillermo faintly wondered if the man had any genuine self-preservation skills.

“Go ahead,” Guillermo eventually relents, opening his mouth slightly. “But be careful,” he warns just as Nandor leans closer.

Guillermo feels the briefest touch of pressure against his left fang and almost shudders at the proximity of Nandor’s blood to his mouth. It would be so easy to pierce through his skin, to let himself taste what he knows deep in his marrow would be his undoing. But this is Nandor—the same Iranian man who made him a glitter portrait on his birthday despite having only known Guillermo for a handful of months, the man who brought cat treats for Sam and brushed him until the cat drifted peacefully off to sleep, the man who had somehow snagged Guillermo’s undead heart in the matter of months. He didn’t want to hurt him despite the innate selfishness that naturally came with being a vampire, of being something that had to kill to survive.

Unfortunately, however, not even Guillermo could account for Nandor’s human clumsiness.

“Ouch,” Nandor hisses suddenly, pulling back. Already, there is a bead of blood dripping from the pinprick on the pad of his index finger.

Guillermo’s gaze hones into the drop with near viper-like precision, nostrils flaring. Unlike his roommates, Guillermo didn’t have as much experience curbing his hunger. It is through sheer force of will that he doesn’t immediately jump for the human’s throat, the delectable aroma of Nandor’s blood now drifting through the small room.

“Nandor,” he grits out between clenched teeth, “You should leave. _Now._ ”

At Guillermo’s pained expression, Nandor falters. Something like sympathy flickers in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“ _Nandor, please,”_ Guillermo says more forcefully than he means to, almost unwittingly commanding Nandor to leave. Already, his head is spinning and he squeezes his eyes shut, nails digging into the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists.

Slinking away, Nandor leaves the Staten Island house like a dog with its tail tucked between their legs. Once he’s safely away from the perimeter, Guillermo rises with a huff and stalks over to the cell. He doesn’t often like picking at Nadja’s and Laszlo’s leftovers, but he makes do.

Later, he helps Sam get rid of the bodies, making quick work of the three people he had drained in ravenous succession. He had never eaten that much so quickly—and all of it had happened due to smelling a single drop of Nandor’s blood.

The thought settles uneasily in his stomach.

******

“Can I be your familiar?” Nandor asks one day, apropos of literally anything as he lounges in the fancy room. The human didn’t live in the house, but he very often took up residence on one of the many chaise lounges scattered around the estate. The rest of the vampires had learned long ago to leave him alone—unless they wanted Guillermo burning another one of their photo albums with his vampiric pyrokinesis.

Sam meows petulantly at Nandor’s feet.

“Do not worry, Sam, I wouldn’t replace you. I just thought you might need some extra help around the house. It is a big house, after all. And a bit dusty.”

“Vampires don’t normally employ… friends to be their familiars,” Guillermo says, glancing away. A brief flutter of desire stirs in his gut at the thought of Nandor as his familiar. He can imagine the man bowed at his knees, helping him dress and disrobe, perhaps even offering his neck if Guillermo was feeling too lazy to leave the house for a proper meal. Guillermo snaps his mouth shut before he says something he shouldn’t, his fangs clacking noisily together.

“Ah, but they can, can’t they? Come on, Guillermo! Please? I promise I’ll make a great familiar!” Nandor flutters his eyelashes, a human personification of _puppy dog eyes_ apparent in his beguiling expression.

At Nandor’s earnestness, Guillermo can’t help but shake his head in confusion. “Why? Why would you want to become a servant to a house full of vampires? I just don’t get it.” _Besides, you know that if you asked, I would turn you,_ Guillermo thinks, knowing that it isn’t as simple as Nandor wanting to work his way to becoming a vampire.

“Well, I’d get to spend more time with you,” Nandor says, rubbing the back of his neck. “And honestly my apartment complex is actually infested with rats. Like a lot of rats. And I think one was confirmed to be carrying the bubonic plague…”

“…So you need a place to stay.”

“Exactly!” Nandor grins, holding out a hand. “So, does this mean you’ll accept me as a familiar?”

With a sigh, Guillermo clasps Nandor’s warm hand. His grip is surprisingly soft, though the calluses in his palm remind him that one of Nandor’s hobbies is fencing. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Nandor’s grin is so bright it’s nearly painful to look at. “You won’t, Guillermo! I swear it!”

******

Nandor moves into the big blue room and suddenly, the house feels like a home. Guillermo loved Nadja, Colin Robinson, and even Laszlo, when the other vampire wasn’t purposefully trying to stir up trouble, but he never felt like he quite belonged there. Sure, he was Nadja’s fledgling and she had been very patient and kind to him as he stumbled along in his transition, but much like a mother bird pushing her baby out of its nest to fly, Nadja had stopped coddling him the moment he proved himself able to find food on his own.

But with Nandor at his side, the dynamics of the house had changed. No longer did he feel like an outsider, a freshly turned vampire who did not and could not keep up with the older and, at times, seemingly crueler vampires of the house. He felt almost human—or at least human where it mattered.

Guillermo loved their shared looks of disbelief whenever the other vampires said something borderline preposterous, the way they naturally joked and ribbed each other, the casual acts of intimacy that Nandor had insisted he perform after watching a seven part YouTube series on what it meant to be a vampire’s familiar (a video courteous of Colin Robinson, who had thought that someone like Nandor would hate a seven hour-long lecture about familiars, but was grossly mistaken).

Tonight, Nandor was helping him choose his vestments. His closet was meager in comparison to Nadja and Laszlo’s, but he was slowly filling up his armoire with soft, chunky sweaters and sensible trousers.

“How about this?” Nandor asks, holding out a white cable-knit sweater and a pair of light-brown dress pants.

Guillermo nods, pleased. He isn’t so vain as to ask Nandor to physically help dress him, but he does appreciate the other man’s eye for detail. As he changes into his clothes for the evening behind the simple wooden partition, Nandor whistles a cheery tune, busying himself with dusting the lid of Guillermo’s coffin. It is only when Guillermo is finished dressing that he notices a new addition to Nandor’s wardrobe.

“Are you wearing Laszlo’s cape?” Guillermo asks incredulously. The thick black cloak looks good on Nandor, who had seemingly decided to dress up for the night. He is wearing a crisp white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows, accented by a black waistcoat with an eye-catching rose embroidery. Somehow, the human had also managed to get his hands on an antique pocket-watch, the gold chain dangling loosely at his side. Perhaps it is another acquisition from Laszlo, Guillermo thinks, attempting to squash down a flare of jealousy. The dark dress pants and oxfords are no doubt from the last victim Guillermo had eaten, some pretentious dark academia know-it-all that had been stupid enough to come to the Staten Island house after Nandor had cheerily talked him up about 15th century battle axes on some dating app. The clothes look much better on Nandor, but Guillermo tries desperately not to linger too long on that thought.

Nandor nods excitedly. “Yes, I won it over a game of chess.” He drops his voice to a low whisper. “Do not tell Laszlo this, but he is a shitty chess player.”

“I won’t,” Guillermo replies, pausing in thought. “So, what did you offer up in the bet? I doubt Laszlo would give up one of his favorite capes all that easily.”

“My blood.”

“Nandor,” Guillermo hisses, only barely restraining himself from shaking Nandor’s shoulders. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“No! I was certain that I would win.”

“What if he had cheated? What would you do then?”

“Well, I would have called for you,” Nandor admits, face flushed. “I know you would protect me.”

The sentiment is beyond sweet and the bloom of irritation Guillermo felt soon melted away at the open, trusting look that Nandor gave him.

“If you…” Nandor trails, gaze daring away. He gives an audible gulp, heartbeat fluttering away in his chest, and Guillermo knows immediately where this conversation is going. “If you ever wanted it—my blood—you could have it.”

Dimly, Guillermo is aware of the ache in his gums, the way his vision grows sharper, able to pinpoint the pale outline of arteries and veins just beneath the surface of Nandor’s skin. He is aware that his eyes have probably taken on an inhuman shade of maroon from the simple suggestion alone, the shadows of his sockets more pronounced. He feels like he is hanging onto his sense of control by a single fraying thread—and then there was Nandor, practically brandishing a pair of scissors in his face.

Guillermo wants to be mad at him—for tempting him, for being so maddeningly easy to love, for making his unlife a labyrinth of confusing feelings—but he can’t force the ire into anything more useful than a dying ember. He could never stay mad at Nandor for long.

“That’s a dangerous thing to offer,” he says instead, tone as severe as he can muster.

Nandor shakes his head, undeterred. “Not to you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I know you.”

Guillermo gives no warning before he is pushing Nandor against the chaise lounge. One of Nandor’s calves hits the edge of the sofa, disrupting his balance, and he falls back with a gasp. Guillermo follows, hovering above him, fingers digging into the upholstery on either side of Nandor’s head.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” Guillermo says, dipping his head against the vulnerable flesh of Nandor’s throat. He stills, listening to the comforting sound of Nandor’s heart, its rhythm increasing as he lets out an unnecessary exhale, cold breath raising the hairs on the nape of Nandor’s neck.

“Please,“ Nandor begins, choking back a strangled whine, hands threading into Guillermo’s curls, bringing him even closer to his throat. “I want you to.”

Nandor’s words unravel him.

He is moments away from sliding his fangs into Nandor’s throat before a perfectly timed “ _Helloooo!”_ robs him of the chance.

“ _Fucking Colin Robinson!”_ Nandor and Guillermo mutter at the same time as Guillermo reluctantly gets to his feet to glare at the energy vampire hovering in the doorway.

“Hey, it’s not my fault you left your door open!”

If he _accidentally_ singes the obnoxious bow tie off of the energy vampire to make him skitter away, then that’s his business. And Nandor’s, he muses, as his familiar returns to dusting the crypt, the barest hint of a blush still present on his cheeks.

******

“Nandor, why is there a _dead_ vampire in the library?”

“It’s definitely _not_ because I accidentally killed him with a broom.”

Guillermo wrinkles his nose at the obvious lie. “Honestly, he was kind of an asshole so it doesn’t really bother me that you killed him. But other vampires probably won’t be too happy.”

“So what should we do now?”

“What we always do with a dead body—bury it.”

******

Guillermo fully expects to die. He expects for the sunlight to burn him into a pillar of ash. He is reminded of the scene in _Interview with the Vampire_ and winces. It was one of his favorite scenes in the movie back when he was human, but now he knows it will only give him nightmares—if he somehow survives. He holds tighter to Nadja and Laszlo as they wail at the bottom of the sealed well, all hope lost.

Instead of the harsh embrace of the light, he opens his eyes to see Colin Robinson brandishing a huge patio umbrella and Nandor beside him.

“Why are you covered in blood?” Guillermo asks, peering up at Nandor in a mix of worry and confusion.

Colin Robinson chuckles darkly. “Oh, you should’ve seen it, guys. After your sentencing, Nandor went full vampire slayer on everyone. It was a bloodbath. He even almost stabbed me with a sword he managed to pry off the wall.”

Guillermo shivers at what his imagination conjures. He sees Nandor effortlessly cutting through vampires, more monstrous than the bloodthirsty beasts that fall at his hand. He imagines an entire room of corpses, blood dripping down the long blade of a sword as Nandor stands in the midst of the wreckage, head tilted back, basking in the quiet that comes after a battle. It’s terrifying and beautiful and it shouldn’t excite him as much as it does.

“It wasn’t a bloodbath,” Nandor mutters, rubbing sourly at the vampire blood that stained his cheek. “It was more of a blood… shower?”

“Excuse me, but am I to believe that Nandor, your soft-brained human familiar, is capable of killing an entire roomful of vampires?” Nadja asks, folding her arms.

“You’re quite right,” Laszlo adds. “It is a bit odd. I mean I caught the man looking at pictures of horses on the computation machine and crying.”

“I was reminiscing about my childhood horse, John!” Nandor snaps, clearly annoyed. He steps closer, revealing a cardboard box. “Anyway, come up here already. I want to go home.”

When it’s all said and done, when all the vampires are returned safely to the dark of the Staten Island house, there are three things that become wholly apparent.

  1. Nandor was a vampire slayer.



  1. Nandor did not like killing vampires, but he was very good at it.



  1. Guillermo had somehow fallen for a man who could kill him with ease.



******

There was a stake pressed to Guillermo’s chest. Nandor looked horrified, as if he couldn’t believe what his own hands had done. With a gasp, Nandor dropped the stake, letting it clatter harmlessly to the floor between them.

“It was an accident,” Nandor explains, dark eyes filled with dread. He still can’t stop staring at his hands, balling his trembling fingers into fists. He looks so small, so unsure of himself—it reminded Guillermo horribly of his own transition into being a vampire. It was difficult becoming a monster you could live with, but it always helped to have someone at your side.

Guillermo settles his own hand over one of Nandor’s closed fists, thumb rubbing in what he hoped was comforting circles. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I would never hurt you, Guillermo. You are my… _friend._ ”

It isn’t the first time Nandor had called him a friend, but it was the first time that the words were said with so much emphasis. It was apparent that Nandor needed Guillermo to know he was his friend—and that friendship, at least by Nandor’s standards, meant something special. It meant that he would stay by Guillermo’s side despite their differences, despite his very blood and bone yearning to rip the undead heart right out of Guillermo’s chest.

“And I would never hurt you either,” Guillermo vows, eventually pulling away. He misses the warmth of Nandor’s hand immediately.

******

Guillermo had almost died—nearly drained to death by the energy vampires that the Council had so ingeniously sent to kill them all—and Nandor was not taking it well by any means.

“Guillermo?” he asks, hesitantly, approaching the open coffin before sucking in a sharp breath. The tension in his shoulders only increases as he settles his palms over the lip of the coffin, peering down at the vampire with a heartbreaking show of concern.

Guillermo can only imagine what he must look like right now—skin and bones sunken in, as ashen as a corpse, too tired to even lift his head in greeting. “Hey, Nandor… I promise it’s not as bad as it looks.”

The human seems nearly in tears. “I should have been here to protect you.”

“No—you’re not allowed to blame yourself. Vampire master’s orders.” He cracks a grin, hoping for the joke to ease the growing tension. “Nandor, you can’t always be here at the house. You need to go and do your human things—run errands, walk in the sunlight, make human friends, spend time outside of a semi-dilapidated Victorian mansion.”

Nandor shakes his head furiously. “But I don’t want those things—I want you!”

The resounding silence is almost painful. Nandor’s gaze drops down to his feet as he steps away from the coffin and outside of Guillermo’s limited periphery. For a brief moment, Guillermo panics, wondering if this is when Nandor will finally leave him. He had always been waiting for it, for the proverbial shoe to drop and for Nandor to one day be gone, not even a note left in his wake to prove he had ever stepped into Guillermo’s life at all.

Nadja and Laszlo had told him plenty of times that humans were flighty creatures prone to running away, and that to vampires, whose lives were measured by the century, humans were often too fickle and disappointingly impermanent to mean anything. It didn’t make sense to grow attached—they would always leave, one way or another. There was only one way their story could end. So why did it matter if it was in ten years or even a hundred? They would one day be gone and you would remain, forced to carry their memory for the rest of eternity until it became too heavy to hold.

Despite this, despite knowing how many ways this all could go horribly wrong, Guillermo can’t watch him go. At least not yet.

“ _Don’t go,”_ Guillermo pleads with a rasp, throat aching. “ _I want you too_.”

Nandor pauses mid-step, breath hitching. Guillermo hears his rushed footsteps before the man is nearly tumbling into his coffin, leaning down to press his lips to the vampire’s. It’s clumsy and awkward and Guillermo can feel the wet trail of Nandor’s tears against his cheeks, but the kiss is also exhilarating, sweet, and addicting in the best possible way.

There was no place he would rather be than here, Nandor bowed above him, warm and human and so beautiful that it almost hurts to look at his face when he eventually pulls away, sniffling.

“Was that… was that okay?” Nandor asks, a sudden flicker of self-consciousness overtaking his features.

It’s a rare look for the man—and it doesn’t suit him, Guillermo concludes, deciding to answer Nandor with action rather than words. Letting out a slight hiss of pain, Guillermo manages to lean forward and bring Nandor back down to coffin-level by tugging at the fabric of his shirt. He swoops up to press an urgent kiss to Nandor’s reddening lips, just cognizant enough to remember to be careful with his teeth. This time, Nandor gives a pleased moan, pressing his lips even closer to the dangerous glint of Guillermo’s fangs. When they pull apart, Nandor’s eyes are so dark with longing that Guillermo can barely tell the difference between his pupil and iris. 

“Stay?” Guillermo asks.

Slowly, Nandor unbuttons the cuff of his sleeve, revealing the warm, bronze skin of his wrist. He holds Guillermo’s gaze, not even flinching when Guillermo’s sclera turn as black as ink, irises a dangerous red. “Only for you.”

******

He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he wakes to the dark of the room with Nandor wrapped around him, coffin lid propped open to allow the human enough oxygen to breathe. Nandor is snoring away, head tucked under Guillermo’s chin, an arm splayed protectively over the vampire’s chest even in his sleep. The band-aid on Nandor’s exposed wrist nearly blends in with the man’s skin, but Guillermo tracks it easily. He imagines the two pinpricks underneath, the wound long since clotted, and he feels a sudden swell of longing and adoration in equal measure. Nandor had been just as sweet and delicious as he thought he would taste, nothing even remotely comparable to his blood. It tasted familiar, like home, like every moment they had shared together from their first meeting, Sam tucked gently in Nandor's arms.

Guillermo soon falls back asleep to the steady drum of Nandor’s heart, a slow, sleepy smile spreading across his face.

It had been a long road to this—to having Nandor curled at his side, to love freely and bravely given—but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He had Nandor and that would always be enough.

******

A new painting is added to the foyer.

Guillermo, lips pulled into a serene grin, fangs exposed. Nandor is posed beside him, one hand draped over Guillermo’s shoulder. An obsidian ring band can be seen from the pose and his lips are also pulled into a smile, revealing that he too had a pair of sharp, gleaming fangs.

“You know,” Nandor remarks, idly stroking his hands through Guillermo’s hair as they sit together on the chaise lounge. “We could have gotten a professional photographer to come by. Or I could have made us a glitter portrait.”

Guillermo chuckles at that, pressing a kiss to Nandor’s cheek. “How about you make a glitter portrait for our crypt?”

Nandor hums cheerily in response. “Alright. I get to choose the pose this time, though.”

“…You want it to be both of us naked, don’t you?”

Nandor gives an incredulous look. “How did you know?”

Guillermo gives a fond, long-suffering sigh. “I know you too well, I guess.”

* * *

Guillermo woke to the feeling of someone’s fingers gliding through his hair. He’s disoriented at first, the rapid thudding of his own heartbeat a confusing rhythm in his chest. The pitch-black dark bleeds away as his eyes adjust to the room, revealing the familiar shape of a certain fur-lined coffin, the lid pushed open.

“Guillermo?” Nandor’s voice drifts softly in his ear, the vampire’s arms encircling his waist. “Your heart is beating very fast. Did you have a nightmare?”

“No… not a nightmare,” Guillermo replies, twisting onto his stomach to look down at the vampire underneath him. “It was just a really weird dream. Not bad. Just… different.”

Concern flickers in Nandor’s face as he reaches up to stroke his cheek. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, I would. It started with a cup of hot chocolate, actually.”

“Eughh, no human food talk, Guillermo. You know it grosses me out.”

Guillermo chuckles, pressing a kiss to the grimacing vampire’s forehead. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

Settling comfortably against Nandor’s chest, Guillermo speaks. Nandor listens.

.

.

_“Baby, I would know if I saw your face  
 **I could recognize your ancient taste**  
Like the wind that blows over mountainsides  
I will come for you, after a hundred lives.”_

**Author's Note:**

> gonna be honest, not being able to drink hot chocolate and/or tea is a real deal-breaker for me when it comes to being a vampire. pls let me know what your vampire deal-breaker is (if you have one). i think it’d be fun to compile silly reasons… or serious ones; whatever floats ur boat lol


End file.
